Chapter 78: Traveling Ten Thousand Diverging Roads, Pursuing a Mountain of Immortals

The sound of the pipa repelled the ordinary disciples of the White Jade Capital, leaving only Yutu unharmed.

Yutu's expression was grim. Behind him, a fearsome Rakshasa visage materialized, a colossal dharma body shielding him protectively in its arms. The dharma’s face was ferocious, copper-bellied eyes bulging, fangs interlaced, and it hefted a giant axe in its hand.

"Wu Gang's Dharma Body?"

Feng Ning was slightly surprised and sighed, "I never thought you were but a step away from your elder sister. Yet you’ve cultivated the Dharma Body of White Jade Capital to such a degree."

Wu Gang’s dharma roared and swung its massive axe at Feng Ning. The force stirred the air, gales rampaged, sending tables and chairs crashing against the walls of the room.

That mighty axe, with all its tumult, descended upon Feng Ning, who stood unruffled.

The jade pipa moved again, flying to Feng Ning’s side. He caught it in his arms and plucked its strings with swift fingers.

The ringing of the pipa filled the air—pearls large and small falling onto a jade plate!

This was a war song of iron and horses; before Feng Ning, the pipa’s notes conjured a general clad in golden armor, wielding a long halberd, who clashed fiercely with Wu Gang’s dharma.

The pipa’s music, the clangor of metal, Feng Ning’s laughter, Yutu’s curses—all blended into a chaotic symphony of battle.

As the golden-armored general and Wu Gang’s dharma engaged in their final exchange, the halberd was shattered in two by an axe blow, while the giant axe was also flung away by a tremendous force.

A massive wave of energy rippled outward, collapsing the house in an instant.

The aftershock did not abate, toppling three more courtyards before it lost its power and faded into a faint white mist.

Even so, as the white mist swept through the street outside the residence, people and horses alike were thrown into disarray. Leaves and branches from the ancient tree, centuries old, were scattered everywhere.

Amidst the ruins, the jade pipa floated beside Feng Ning. His brocade robe fluttered, and he still wore a smile.

Yutu looked battered, his plain robe covered in dust.

The victor and the defeated were plain to see.

Ten fathoms away, Zeng Li gripped a great axe formed of pure ice and shouted, "Master, let me help you!"

"Silence! No one is to interfere!"

With that, Yutu’s strength gave way and he collapsed onto the rubble.

From afar, Zeng Li was stunned, his aged face showing a rare trace of fear. For how many years had it been since he last saw his master so utterly defeated?

Zeng Li was at a loss. Axe in hand, he dared neither advance nor retreat. A step forward, and Feng Ning might yet have strength to kill him—or even all the disciples of White Jade Capital present. A step back, and Yutu’s life would be forfeit. If White Jade Capital lost Yutu, who could say if New Tang’s domain would remain so vast?

Fortunately, Feng Ning put away the jade pipa and made no further move. Only then did Zeng Li slowly retreat a hundred paces.

Feng Ning waved his sleeve and casually beckoned to the rabbit, shivering among the rubble. "Little rabbit, come here."

The long-eared rabbit trembled, but hurried to Feng Ning’s side.

Without ceremony, Feng Ning sat squarely on its back, composed and dignified, and asked, "Master Yutu, can we discuss matters properly now?"

Yutu gritted his teeth. "If this body of mine were sixteen years old, you would not have defeated me."

"No ifs—this year, you are but six. I admit, your White Jade Capital’s Ninefold Transformation of Heaven and Man is a most superior art, but what a pity! Each time you are reborn, you sink into a low point. Who would have believed that the once greatest battle-maniac of White Jade Capital could not defeat me, a pipa player of Penglai Palace?"

Resigned, Yutu could do nothing more.

Feng Ning spoke directly, raising five fingers. "The spiritual veins of this world are far inferior to those of the previous one. The continent we inhabit is the most lacking in spiritual veins. Of those, we want half of Suiyun Mountain’s spiritual veins."

"There are two undersea spiritual veins in the Eastern Sea—is that not enough for you? Yet you come to White Jade Capital to seize ours?" Yutu’s eyes flashed with anger.

Feng Ning’s eyelids drooped as he smiled. "There are no walls that the wind cannot pass through. Back then, your White Jade Capital, together with Penglai, Kunlun, and Sword Cliff, agreed to divide sixteen spiritual veins, promising to leave a few for the Demon Palace and Hidden Palace to prevent trouble.

But now, all the veins within New Tang are being exploited. If those demon palaces want spiritual veins, won’t they come to us for them?

The trouble started with you, White Jade Capital, yet you expect everyone else to clean it up? That’s not right."

"Thirty percent," Yutu bargained, frowning.

"Half," Feng Ning replied, raising his eyelids. "I am old-fashioned—whatever my grandmaster commanded, I must do."

"Unless you can ensure the myriad demon forest in the depths of Suiyun Mountain does not get involved, there is no deal."

Yutu was determined. "The spirit-seeking was done by us, the mountain driving as well. Now the spiritual vein is about to emerge, and you want half just by talking? Even if I agreed, my sister would not."

If Lady Echan did not agree, then it would mean war between White Jade Capital and Penglai.

Feng Ning had long known that simply asking for half was impossible. He was not as rigid as he appeared; it was merely bargaining.

Feigning a moment’s thought, Feng Ning said, "How about this: Suiyun Mountain lies on the border of our two nations, within the domain of the Myriad Demon Forest. By rights, the forest should get a share. We can split off two-tenths from our half for the forest, to ensure they cause no trouble.

White Jade Capital can exploit the vein. We of Penglai will negotiate with the Myriad Demon Forest."

"Deal."

Both men were shrewd—one, the centuries-old master of White Jade Capital, the other, Penglai’s chief disciple and its master diplomat. This outcome had long been calculated in their hearts.

It was what Feng Ning expected, and Yutu’s bottom line.

With business settled, Feng Ning was visibly in good spirits. Yutu, though still angry, was not as aggressive as before.

Whether it was fighting or Yutu’s insults, it had all been for leverage in this negotiation.

—Page 1 of 3

Patting the long-eared rabbit he’d been sitting on, Feng Ning stood. Suddenly, he said, "Master Yutu, I have another request."

Yutu’s face, which had just regained some color, darkened again. "Feng Ning, don’t push your luck…"

Feng Ning seemed not to notice Yutu’s poor mood, or his impending outburst. Smiling, he asked, "Master Yutu, this big rabbit of yours is quite nice. Would you give it to me as a parting gift?"

"Get lost!"

Yutu was so furious he nearly summoned Wu Gang’s dharma to strike.

Feng Ning stroked the big rabbit and shook his head with a sigh, murmuring to himself, "Seems it’s impossible. This rabbit is truly fine—if I brought it back for Feifei, she’d surely adore it."

Suddenly, a gale swept up; Yutu waved his sleeve and a whirlwind whisked the long-eared rabbit to his side. He grabbed it by the ears and snapped, "Lay a finger on my rabbit, and I’ll see Penglai’s blood stain the Eastern Sea!"

"Tsk, tsk. If you won’t give it, so be it. It’s only a jade rabbit of White Jade Capital. Another day, I’ll take Feifei to snatch an even bigger one from your place."

With that, Feng Ning laughed heartily, mounted the jade pipa, and soared away.

Yutu, left behind, twisted the rabbit’s ears out of shape in his rage. To brazenly declare he’d steal a rabbit from White Jade Capital right in front of its master—only those whimsical musicians of Penglai Palace could pull off such antics.

…

The moon was high. Suiyun Mountain Range was filled with ancient trees, their twisted branches lending a touch of gloom.

Suiyun Mountain was a sprawling range, with countless peaks—at least a thousand. In the dense forests, the only light came from moonbeams and fireflies.

But atop Qiyun Mountain, it was different. Ice lotuses the size of a human head floated in midair, shining bright as day.

Upon the summit, a hundred or so fine-scaled cavalry waited in formation, their tired eyes peering from under iron helmets.

For such battle-hardened cavalry, able to fight for three days and nights without rest, to look so weary showed how grueling their month-long campaign in the mountains had been.

At the head of the troops was Yang Yanlang, clad in lion-helm armor, silver dragon spear pointing north.

Yang Yanlang looked troubled. He turned and said, "Immortal Bo, if we push further, we’ll reach the borders of my frontier city. Qiyun Mountain is less than a hundred li from there. If we can’t take this mountain, the lives of border folk may be affected."

"No matter. We’ve pursued the spirit mountain for eleven days—it’s exhausted. It cannot escape us now.

Rest assured, General Yang, this mountain will not threaten New Tang’s people. Even if I must summon my own dharma body, I, Bo Nian, will bar it from Qiyun Mountain."

Floating beside Yang Yanlang was a young man, just past twenty, with an even fairer complexion than Yang Yanlang. He dressed as a scholar in a light green robe, with an embroidered pavilion and the words “Third Tower” on the back.

This was Bo Nian, master of the Third Tower of White Jade Capital.

As the most senior after Lady Echan, Bo Nian was said to be her junior uncle. Yet, he was indifferent to fame and fortune, brilliant but disinterested in cultivation, preferring poetry, song, and drunken revelry upon city walls. Thus, he ended up serving the younger generation.

Because Bo Nian was so gentle, he often spoke up for the people of New Tang in court. Yang Yanlang treated him differently, unlike his distaste for other immortals.

To work alongside Yang Yanlang for a month, and to have his advice sought, made Bo Nian a rare figure among White Jade Capital’s immortals.

Yang Yanlang’s worry eased. He sighed, "So much the better. Immortal Bo, I thank you on behalf of the border folk."

Bo Nian smiled faintly, "You serve at the Emperor’s command, I at the Capital Master’s—it is our duty. We must give our all."

Yang Yanlang was about to speak when the mountain ahead rumbled. Trees toppled, and a massive surge of earth rose as if a dragon burrowed beneath, racing north.

The rumbling did not cease, and the horses of the fine-scaled cavalry neighed in alarm.

Yet, the troops were used to such scenes and soon fell silent, waiting for Yang Yanlang’s order.

In the distance, a streak of brilliance approached and bowed before Bo Nian. "Master Bo, the mountain spirit has broken free and is headed for Qiyun Mountain. I have observed it is at the end of its strength. We should be able to capture it tonight."

"Very good—set up a formation on Qiyun Mountain to block its path. It must not reach the frontier city."

The disciple accepted the command and flew north in a flash of light.

Bo Nian turned to Yang Yanlang and saluted, "General, the little stone spirits are now up to you and your cavalry."

Yang Yanlang nodded, swung his silver dragon spear, and bellowed, "Qiyun Mountain! March!"

Behind him, Sun Longhu raised his Tang saber and shouted, "Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army, advance!"

The cavalry swept mightily toward Qiyun Mountain.

These fine-scaled riders, who had braved the Suiyun Mountains for so long, were accomplishing a feat astounding to the world.

They were driving the mountain!

…

A gentle night breeze stirred Zhong Ming’s robe.

The wind ruffled his hair, obscuring his view.

Strands brushed across Zhong Ming’s face, but he dared not move.

A sword was at his throat—he would be a fool to even twitch.

After all the earlier commotion and explanations, Zhong Ming had exhausted himself justifying why Liang Yu had to become a “Greenhide,” why Yuni Village needed a local ruffian.

He had explained it all, yet Miss Yu Bai, standing before him with her sword at his neck, remained unconvinced.

She had held him at swordpoint for a full incense stick’s time. Zhong Ming genuinely feared she might slip and stab him in the throat.

—Page 2 of 3

Meanwhile, little Feng Mufei squatted nearby, shelling sunflower seeds. The ground was littered with husks. She loved stories, and to her, Zhong Ming’s tales of life in Yuni Village—the fights among the local toughs—were the most novel things under heaven.

Only when he finished did she spit out her last seed husk and exclaim, "Wow, Brother Zhong Ming, is that the end? I haven’t had enough yet!"

Clearly, the little girl took it all as a story and cared nothing for the actual point of the matter.

Zhong Ming forced a smile. "Miss Yu Bai, little Feifei, you both understand now. Liang Yu and I had no choice—only this way could we protect everyone’s livelihood.

It sounds bad, but Liang Yu isn’t a real bully; he’s a hero who protects his neighbors, more dutiful than the corrupt constables in town!"

In the courtyard, Liang Yu, dozing by his “Finale” saber, snapped awake at hearing his name. He straightened up, trying to appear righteous.

But it was too dark to see his expression; only a figure in fine clothes was visible.

Liang Yu was so dark, he was indistinguishable from the night; even with a lantern, you’d struggle to find him.

Fortunately, little Feng Mufei was clever. Moved by Zhong Ming’s story, she coughed and said, "Sister Yu Bai, I think Brother Zhong Ming is telling the truth. Maybe you really have the wrong person."

Sword in hand, Yu Bai’s face under her hat turned red and white by turns. She was too proud to admit fault.

Seeing her silent, Zhong Ming guessed the reason and quickly said, "Miss Yu Bai is a heroine—naturally, you wouldn’t make such a mistake. Someone must have misled you, trying to use you as a weapon.

How about this: it’s late. Tomorrow, we can confront the informant together, and you can ask around the village about me and Liang Yu. That would be prudent.

Our elders always said, ‘Think thrice before you act.’ Justice demands even greater caution.

Miss Yu Bai, what do you think?"

Zhong Ming’s flattery was sharp and well-received. Yu Bai coughed and murmured, "Hmm… makes sense."

Zhong Ming kept a smile on his face but cursed inwardly: What nonsense! She ignored the truth but fell for my nonsense? Must have water on the brain!

At last, the sword left his throat.

Zhong Ming let out a long breath, feeling utterly drained.

Yu Bai sheathed her sword and turned slightly, secretly massaging her arm. After holding her sword up for an incense stick’s time, her hand had gone numb.

Still, all ended well. Liang Yu, now revived, hurried to Zhong Ming’s side and whispered, "Brother Ming, you’re amazing—managing to explain things to such an unreasonable little shrew."

Before Zhong Ming could reply, Liang Yu’s stomach rumbled loudly.

He was starving; since breakfast, neither he nor Zhong Ming had eaten a thing.

Zhong Ming felt his own stomach growl and waved, "Come on, Blackie, let’s eat."

Liang Yu grinned foolishly. "Right! How does it go again—people are stone, rice is iron, something like that…?"

"Man is iron, food is steel—miss a meal and you’ll feel faint!"

Liang Yu, failing to show off, scratched his head with a silly grin and followed Zhong Ming into the house.

After two steps, Zhong Ming remembered their little tagalong and asked Feng Mufei, "Feifei, want to eat with us? Looks like your father will be late coming home."

At the mention of food, the little girl’s eyes lit up. "Yes! Yes! Mortal food is the best—so much tastier than the palace’s bland fruit!"

Glancing at the awkward Yu Bai, Zhong Ming offered politely, "Miss Yu Bai, would you care to join us for a meal?"

Feed her?

Were it not for her sword and the fact she was a young woman, he’d have chased her out with the “Finale” saber already.

It was a mere courtesy—he never intended to actually feed this naive, inexperienced girl.

At the same time, Yu Bai thought the same—who would eat with a village official of questionable repute?

"No—"

Yu Bai meant to go to town, find an inn for supper and lodging, and confront the village official tomorrow.

But then she remembered—she had no money left.

When she first set out, Yu Bai had no notion of the importance of silver. Life in the palace was effortless; even when they traded, it was by barter.

Only after leaving home did she realize that mortals lived by silver and copper coins, not barter.

She’d racked her brain to pay for meals, pawning a beloved jade pendant. Later, she found a pawnshop and traded a jade hairpin for cash.

With money, Yu Bai splurged—buying a horse, a sword, clothes, and lodging, all the way south. By last night in town, she’d spent her last coin.

She’d planned to pawn her white horse for food, but it ran off. Now, only her silver sword was left.

But if she pawned the sword, how could she travel the land with it?

After a moment’s thought, Yu Bai’s face under the hat flushed bright red. At length, she coughed, "All right! Since you lost my horse, you owe me a meal!"

"What horse?"

Zhong Ming was baffled. Why did this woman never play by the rules? Did she not even know what courtesy was?

—Page 3 of 3